


Ashes

by Thornvale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:33:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thornvale/pseuds/Thornvale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki begins to come unhinged after the fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Quick mini-fic.

The sky is black, but the snow is a pure, virgin white.

As distinctive as a raven on a sheet of ice, a dark figure lays sprawled on the ground. He is near unnoticeable, insignificant, in this vast emptiness, snow slowly casting his still limbs into the white oblivion, the freezing embrace of meaningless vacuity. If he dares to move, the soft substance will crumble. But he does not move. There is no use in moving.

 _Tick-tock_ , the emptiness says. _Time is running out. What now?_

Time bears no meaning, here. It is a place outside the cage of past, present, and future.

_You have the weight of everything and nothing on your shoulders. A single thought is a stab to the heart. What are you going to do?_

He can feel that he has grown thin. He can feel that his body is screaming in agony, broken by The Fall, and working sluggishly to repair itself. He can feel the blood that has frozen to his skin, the tear streaks that cling and burn at his flesh. He should be on fire. He should be weeping enough tears to feed the glaciers. And yet, there is nothing. Nothing but his stunned consciousness.

_Your story has not come to an end. Not yet. Is it your broken bones holding you down or your unwillingness to fight back?_

A spark.

_Aptitude comes as naturally to you as your wit. Potential is your pillar. Why waste it when you hold an entire world in the palm of your hand?_

It is strange how vocal loneliness is. The silence seduces him, envelopes him within it wholly, and caresses the dormant anger in his mind. The man is alone, surrounded by an endless stretch of blank, white space, but he does not need anyone else.

_Do not allow regret to taint your strength, lest you lose sight of all that you can gain._

_… You are useless, here. Abandoned like a sick dog. What more were you to them than that?_

Nothing. He was nothing.

Anger rears its head. For now it is merely a flame, spreading slowly over onto guilt and his broken heart to begin their cremation. The ashes will feed the inferno. Before long, his anger will be unbridled.

_Good and evil are just words. Just notions and ideas forged by our own pointless sentience. What you will do is neither right nor wrong. You are not an Asgardian. You are not a Frost Giant, a human, nor elf, nor dwarf, nor demon. You are Loki. You are a king._

Emptiness becomes substance. The snow burns at his skin, and his body is ripped with pure agony. Though he begins to writhe and cry out, a new feeling brings a sudden elation to his mind. Purpose. He has purpose.

There is nothing more comforting.


End file.
